


The Infamous Lick

by Johnlockinspiresme



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Italiano | Italian, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John checks Sherlock out, M/M, Mutual Pining, lip lick, not date scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17644091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockinspiresme/pseuds/Johnlockinspiresme
Summary: Based on the pilot episode particularly the scene where John and Sherlock are sitting in the Italian restaurant  and John is asking him about romantic entanglements and when Sherlock says he is single there is the infamous lick lip.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all so fair warning that this is my first time writing in the Sherlock fandom, but this idea would not leave me alone and I hope you like it. There will probably be more chapters..

“People don’t have archenemies in real life,” John said. Sherlock is looking across the street, not paying attention to John, he shifts his eyes to him and says, 

“I’m sorry?” 

“In real life, there are no archenemies in real life, it doesn’t happen.” 

“Doesn’t it? Sounds a bit dull,” Sherlock says this still putting most of his attention across the street and John is staring at him rather intently. 

“So who did I meet?”

“What do real people have then in their real lives?”

“Friends, people they know, people they don’t know, people they like, people they don’t like. Girlfriends, boyfriends.”

“As I was saying dull.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend then?”

“Girlfriend no, not really my area.” 

John stops for a slight second as that statement seeps into his brain, “Oh right, do you have a boyfriend?”

And at that Sherlock finally turns his head to look at John fully. “Which is fine by the way,” John quickly rushes to say.

“I know it’s fine,” Sherlock says with slight amusement in his eyes. He is staring at John intently now looking him over and making at least ten new deductions which he isn’t as keen on sharing them as earlier. John smiles at him fully, a gorgeous grin that takes over his entire face, making his laugh lines more pronounced and showing the subtle hints on a dimple. 

“So you’ve got a boyfriend then..” John barley finishes his sentence before Sherlock interrupts.

“No.” 

“Right, okay,” John says with a slight nervous chuckle and then for a seemingly non-existent reason his tongue rolls across his lips as he stares at a very unattached Sherlock. He is hardly even aware that he’s doing it, it’s a instinctual response that he seems to have no control over, but he can’t help feeling a bit brighter knowing there isn’t a special someone in Sherlock’s life. Sherlock notes the movement of the traitorous tongue and his right eyebrow furrows just a smidge but he decides to let it go until he hears what John says next.

“You’re unattached just like me, right good,” he goes back to eating his food desperately trying to act like this isn’t awkward. Sherlock looks back out the window to check across the way for a split second before turning his attention back to John.  
“John, um,” he stammers into the table before lifting his eyes, “I think you should know I consider myself married to my work and while I am flatter by your..”

John begins to interrupt him, just beginning to realize how his actions and words of the last few minutes are becoming construed by the brilliant man across from him. “No,” he says as he shakes his head and clears his throat, “No, I’m not asking, no, I’m just saying it’s all fine,” John stammers this out finally and his eyes are wide and intense burning into Sherlocks’. 

“Good,” Sherlock says staring back at John, but a part of him thinks that he really was coming onto him, even if he wasn’t conscious of it, that mouth doth protest too much. He shifts his eyes back to the window and softly says, “Thank you.” John’s eyes have somehow grown even wider and he looks away with a slightly frighten expression on his face, as though he managed to miss a small incident which surely would have resulted in more deductions from Sherlock but probably a lot less amusing and a lot more uncomfortable. John doesn’t get very long to mull this over as a taxi slows across the street and Sherlock quickly runs out after it and John follows him quickly. Running all over the city to catch a cab just for it to not be the murderer might have been disappointing if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the most fun that John had had in years. Getting back to the flat and laughing over Sherlock's intriguing sense of humor, John is just a bit confused when Sherlock calls out, “Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson will take the room upstairs.”

“Says who?”

“Says the man at the door,” Sherlock says this with a full on grin and John can’t help but think that he will do anything to see that everyday because it is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and he wants to see it over and over again. 

“Sherlock texted me, he said you forgot this.”

“Thank you,” John says looking a little dazed and glancing back at Sherlock who smiles at him encouragingly. He takes the cane back inside with him. 

Mrs. Hudson comes out all upset and they head up stairs to find half of Scotland Yard poking about the flat and Inspector Lestraude is lazing about on a chair. 

John is looking around at all the activity in the flat and his head only whips back around when he hears Lestraude say, “It’s a drugs bust.”

“Seriously this guy, a junkie have you met him?” John notices Sherlock turning around and coming towards him he even says, “John,” but he just keeps going, some grey haired bastard is talking shit about quite honestly the most brilliant man that John has ever encountered and it ticks him off. “I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational.”

“John you probably want to shut up now,” Sherlock says as he leans into John’s personal space. 

“Yeah but come on,” John says as he looks into Sherlock’s eyes and he finds smoldering eyes devouring him and there is also just a hint of guilt in them. “No,” he says as his eyes shift down to look at Sherlock’s lips of their own accord before sliding back up to his eyes, “You?” John says with a disbelieving tone. 

“Shut up,” Sherlock says his face scrunching up in annoyance, honestly this was something he didn’t actually want the good doctor to know, the one person to embrace his deductions instead of disgust, he doesn’t want to be diminished in his eyes.

They go ranting at each other for a few minutes, Sherlock paces as he tries to figure out what Rachel has to do with anything, when he slips up and asks a question that is obvious to everyone with a beating heart, he looks to John like a deer in the headlights. John tries to calm him a bit and can’t help a small thrill of protectiveness that runs through him. That thrill carries him through the rest of the night all through taking a taxi to find Sherlock, shooting the man talking to Sherlock trying to make him take the pill, and then to the end when they are leaving the crime scene giggling. 

For Sherlock when Greg asks him about the shooter he launches into his deductions without a seconds hesitation until he sees John standing right outside the police tape waiting for him. He quickly backtracks and is more grateful than ever before that Lestraude isn’t the brightest. And well when John calls him an idiot he smiles and almost wishes he hadn’t said all that business earlier about being married to work.


	2. Nightly imaginings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter just about the boys thoughts after their first case together.

John Watson was finally stumbling to his new bed around 3 in the morning. Sherlock had dragged him to a Chinese restaurant where he proceeded to try and predict their fortune cookies, and insisted they keep getting them until he got one right. Finally John opened one that read, a new adventure awaits you. Sherlock looked incredibly smug after that and John couldn’t help but sigh in relief when they finally left the restaurant and returned to 221B Baker street. John had a moment of confusion when instead of shuffling onto his own room Sherlock sat down on his chair in the living room.

“Aren’t you going to bed?”

“Not just yet, I always like to go to my mind palace after a case and store all the important information.” If John hadn’t been dead on his feet from being up for over 20 hours straight he might have inquired into what the bloody hell a mind palace was, as it were, he just said, “Goodnight Sherlock,” and dragged his feet up the stairs. He was almost at the top when he heard a soft, “Goodnight John.”

John Watson sat on his new bed with his head in his hands, he was bloody knacker but his mind wouldn’t stop going over and over the night in circles in his mind. It kept replaying a very specific moment when Sherlock had invaded his personal space and looked at him with those smoldering eyes. John felt as though he could get lost in those eyes, drown in them as though they were depth-less wells of obsidian. His mind was spinning and he couldn’t help his traitorous hand as it slowly creep it’s way past the waist brand of his trousers and boxers to wrap around his smooth length. At first the only image running through his mind was the soft image of Sherlock’s mouth, my god, John knew if he Sherlock was anybody else he would have just leaned in to see what would happen. However Sherlock had made it clear he wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic entanglement and John would respect that. His mind started to conjure up images of all the things Sherlock’s mouth could be doing and just as he saw Sherlock’s lip wrap around his cock, he came muffling the shout by biting into his knuckles so hard he would have teeth marks tomorrow. John cleaned himself up quickly, laid down, and passed out so quickly it was as if once all the tension was out of his body there was nothing left keeping it up anymore. 

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open as he heard a faint whimper from upstairs, he strained his ears to see if he heard anything else, when nothing else was forthcoming he leaned back into the chair. Sherlock ran a hand over his face while trying to deduce his feelings about his new flatmate. It seemed good on the surface, he would have someone to help him on cases and he wouldn’t be so alone in the flat anymore. His mind however was intent on reminding him that his flatmate seemed to have a more than friendly attraction towards him. He could not stop seeing that lush tongue darting out to link the small pink lips and he looked at Sherlock with unabashed interest. Sherlock had felt something twist in his stomach at that moment and a fain echo of it was happening now as he replayed the image in his mind. A dawning horror was mounting in his head and the thought felt traitorous, did he have similar feelings for John? He shook the idea off before he could look at it too long, surely not he just felt a strange kinship to the doctor, after being alone and bullied by all around him (except Mrs. Hudson of course) who could blame him. Once he convinced himself that he still only had eyes for his work he unfolded himself from the chair, slowly he walked to his bedroom and began methodically peeling his clothes off. Once he stood in boxers and… nothing else, Sherlock pulled back his covers and slid in, some things were always harder to explain away in the dark of the night. Sherlock shook the last remaining image of John smiling in his mind, rolled over, and let the darkness take him.


	3. Lazy Sundays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, a little peak at Sherlock's background in this one. Hope you enjoy.

Solving cases with Sherlock Holmes always managed to make John Watson feel as though he found his place in this world. He had just been surviving through life before so that he could get to this time in his life… to get to this man. It had been a month and everyday held some sort of adventure, even when there wasn’t a case to work. Sherlock would be wrapped in his blanket pacing trying to find some sort of obsession to tide him over until the next case. John would be sitting in his chair with a book or his laptop. He would look up, seeing Sherlock pacing and sometimes he found himself just watching him, as if he was the most interesting thing he had ever seen and most of the time he was. 

When there was a case there was always these moments where they had just gone on a chase through London, or Sherlock had had some kind of brilliant Epiphany and they would gravitate towards each other in these moments. There were times when John would almost believe they were going to kiss but it never happened and he always felt a tightening vise around his throat while he forced himself to shove the feelings of disappointment down. Nights were always the worst, he would lie in his bed, listening to the sounds of Sherlock’s footsteps as he worked on some experiment late into the night. He tried not to think what he would do if Sherlock ever dared to come in his room. It seemed to be the one boundary that Sherlock truly respected, and John couldn’t help the irritation he felt at that. 

John would have imagined that there wasn’t any day that Sherlock wouldn’t be ready to rush out and get to the ‘game’ as he called it. However Sundays seemed to be the exception, John came downstairs in flannels and his dressing gown to find Sherlock wrapped in a sheet, he was pretty sure that his heart stopped in his chest for a second. 

“Oh good, you’re awake. Sleep well?”

“Yes, you?”

“Quite well in fact. Tea or coffee?” Sherlock asked holding up some mugs. 

“Coffee please black.” There was a hint of a smile on Sherlock’s face as he made the coffee and handed a mug to John. They sat down in their chairs facing each other, Sherlock grabbed the newspaper. After a moment of staring at Sherlock, John shrugged and grabbed his laptop. 

“Problem?” Sherlock asked after a few moments.

“No, why?”

“Well you just look a little confused.”

“You just don’t seem the type to make coffee and sit around reading a newspaper.”

“Ah, an astute observation Dr. Watson but it’s Sunday which means the world must wait until after noon to fall apart.” 

“Sherlock Holmes has a lazy day?”

“Well technically speaking a lazy morning, but yes, I guess you could say that.”

John processed this for a moment and the thought made him smile. Sherlock glanced up from his newspaper and gave John a small smile in return before returning to his paper. Lestrade seemed to know Sherlock’s little practice because he called at exactly noon on the dot with a murdered priest. Sherlock who normally would have been running about getting ready in a rush to get down to the crime scene frowned just a bit in annoyance while he slowly walked to his room. 

“You coming with?” He asked as he reached his door looking back over his shoulder at John. 

“Yeah of course.” Sherlock nodded at him before opening his door and disappearing inside. John made his way up stairs to his room to get ready as well, puzzling over why Sherlock wouldn’t be excited about a case. Maybe despite all his assurances he was just a bit human like the rest of them and got the Sunday blues. Sherlock was waiting by the door for him and he had John’s coat in his arms, John gently took it from him and put it on as he followed Sherlock out the flat and downstairs to outside. They flagged a taxi and Sherlock still hadn’t spoke, by this point John knew that it was usually better to wait for Sherlock to say something.

They were only five minutes away from the church when Sherlock suddenly spoke, “John,” that was it, he just said his name. 

“Yeah?” Sherlock just shook his head and went back to staring out his window, but his hand reached out for Johns’. Bemusedly John let him have it and he noticed that Sherlock was shaking. 

“What’s wrong Sherlock?”

“I just…. I really don’t like church people…” he trailed off and John waited patiently. “There were some very strong opinionated people in my school who didn’t take too kindly to my science or my other thing, shocking I know. It was worst than what people do now though, I still have scars…”

That statement filled John with such rage that it was all he could do to resist getting their addresses from Mycroft. Instead he squeezed Sherlock’s hand and asked, “Where?” 

“Lower back.” 

“Do you want me to call Lestrade tell him we will just skip this one?”

Sherlock huffed in annoyance at John or himself was unclear. “No, of course not. I won’t let that come in the way of my work, it was so long ago anyways.

“Okay well I won’t leave your side for an instant alright?”

Sherlock looks at John then studying something in his eyes, he drops his gaze to their joined hands and with a slight quirk of his mouth he says, “Alright.”


	4. The Crime Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter took a bit of time just cause work kept getting the way.

John and Sherlock dropped their joined hands as they walked through the doors of the church and John walked a little bit closer to Sherlock to make up for it. Lestrade headed straight for them, “You’ve got five minutes,” was his only greeting. Sherlock instead of having a witty replied just nodded instead.

 

Sherlock crouched next to the body and started going through deductions, then asked John for the cause of death and his observations. “Blow to the head by a blunt object, 40 year old male, works with his hand, might have a second job.” Sherlock gave him his signature smirk.

“I’m not even a little bit right am I?”

 

“Actually you are, a bit. Cause of death was a blow to the head but the state of his hands isn’t from a second job. It’s from moving that cross over there everyday.” There was a huge wooden cross hanging on the wall over the podium.

 

“Why in the world would anyone move that everyday?”

 

“To hide a stash of course.”

 

“What?”

 

“Heroin.”

 

Instead of asking how John just crossed his arms and inclined his head towards him, Sherlock took the unspoken invitation. “There are marks on the wall all around the cross but no other hangings or anything that could cause them, the good priest here has track marks all along the upper part of his arm, a clever place since no one will likely see, and plus he’s wearing shoes.”

 

“Shoes?”

 

“Think about it John, he spends long hours here, it is a home away from home why in the world would he wear shoes in here when he is virtually alone?”

 

“He wasn’t here for long, he must have just gotten back from somewhere.”

 

“His drug dealer to be precise, he had just put his new supply in the hiding place when the killer caught him by surprise and now here we are."

 

“Brilliant.” Sherlock snapped his head to look up at John he still hadn’t quite gotten use to someone actually finding his deductions impressive, it always made a warm sensation spread throughout Sherlock’s entire body. “You weren’t so bad yourself Doctor.” Sherlock swore that John blushed slightly at that, well it was a rare thing for Sherlock Holmes to hand out compliments.

 

They finished their examination in three minutes and Sherlock wanted to interview members of the congregation so that meant come Sunday John Watson and Sherlock Holmes would be going to church. John was slightly worried how that would effect Sherlock but when he turned to him Sherlock was wearing a small grin. “What is it?”

 

“Mycroft.”

 

Which was just plain confusing since his brother rarely ever made Sherlock smile, he was about to inquire further when a nondescript pulled up beside them and the devil himself came out of it.

 

“Hello brother dear and Doctor Watson.”

 

“What do you want Mycroft?” John’s tone must have been a little harsh because both Holmes brothers turned their heads toward him with an eyebrow raised. John didn’t rise to the bait though, he just stared Mycroft down.

 

“I am here to extend my services, if you need any doors opened for your investigation let me know.”

 

“Why would care about a dead drug addict priest?”

 

Sherlock asked, skeptical of his brother’s motives. “Let’s just say that this particular church is dear to a friend of mine and they would like peace of mind by having the person or persons responsible apprehended as soon as possible.”

 

“Of course, wouldn’t want your ‘friend’ to worry unduly now would we?”

 

“Definitely not,” the brothers were exchanging a meaningful look and John coughed loudly just in case they had forgotten he was still there.

 

“Anyways best be going, brother, Doctor Watson always a pleasure.” And with that Mycroft got back in the car and drove away.

 

“They are moving the body to Barts so we can examine it more closely. Want to check out the priest’s home in the meantime?”

 

“Course, you will actually let me in this time right?”

 

“Oh not this again. Yes John I will let you in, scout’s honor.”

 

“You weren’t a part of scout’s.”

 

“Oh really, and how do you know?” Sherlock asks titling his head slightly.

 

“Were you?”

 

“Yes for about a month, I got kicked out for telling the leader that his wife was cheating on him with his brother.”

 

“H- you know what never-mind I really don’t need to know.” Sherlock smiled at him as they hailed a cab.


End file.
